


He Was on the Side of the Angels

by angelbaby731



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Reichenbach Fall, love you, my version, plz dont unsubscribe if u r subscribed, sorry - Freeform, things are a bit changed cuz of new character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-19
Packaged: 2017-12-29 20:53:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelbaby731/pseuds/angelbaby731
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My name is Collins Angelo. This is the story of the day part of me died.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Was on the Side of the Angels

**Author's Note:**

> So uh, this was based off a dream I had in which I was John Watson... *blush* and uhhhh I hope you like it! It has a sad ending sooooo....

I walk into the lab at St. Barts. I really don't want to be the one to tell Sherlock that Mycroft sold his whole life story to the one man we would never want to know.

_Thunk, thunk, thunk._

"Sherlock Holmes, if you do not stop bouncing that ball this instant I may end up strangling you!" I snap. I have missed the last seventy-two hours of sleep because Sherlock apparently wants to live at St. Barts. Sherlock looks up at me with that madman look and I know he is thinking about something he probably won't end up telling me, because my brain is too small to comprehend his genius, or so he says. I twist a lock of my hair around my index finger. 

He says, "I need to find out the keycode, Collins, the one that Moriarty left in 221b on the day of the verdict. I can kill Rich Brook and bring back Moriarty."

"Did he touch anything?"

"Only an apple."

"He write anything down?"

"No."

I tap my fingers on the table as I think. He begins to tap as I move away from the table. He stops suddenly, and turns his back to me. I hear his phone unlock. He sends a text.

 

##############################################################################################################################################################################

 

I guess we have waited about an hour, and I keep dozing off. Its dark outside, but surprise surprise, I guess we can turn seventy-two hours of missing sleep into ninety-six if we miss tonight. Sherlock is still messing with his little blue ball as I get a phone call.

**"Is this Collins Angelo?"**

**"Yes, speaking."**

**"I am a paramedic, Mrs. Hudson has been injured."**

**"What? What happened, is she okay?"**

**"Um no, shes been shot."**

**"Oh my god, right, yes I'm coming."**

 

"What is it?" Sherlock asks.

"Paramedics. Mrs. Hudson, shes been shot."

"What, how?" He asks in his cold, unattached way.

"Probably by one of the killers you managed to attra- Jesus, Jesus... Shes dying, Sherlock, lets go."

"You go, I'm busy."

I freeze. Slowly I trun around. "Busy?" I say, gritting my teeth the the point I'm surprised they dont fall out.

He makes an excuse about having to think. At a time like this, he won't stop what he is doing to go make sure she is okay, even thought he once half killed a man for laying a finger on her.

"Doesn't she mean anything to you?" I half shout.

"She's my landlady-"

"She's dying, you  _machine!_ Sod this, you stay here, if you want, on your own."

"Alone is what I have, alone protects me."

"No, friends protect people."

And with that, I stormed out of St. Barts.

 

Back at 221b, I run inside, and almost run into a ladder. I look up; there is the worker Mrs. Hudson hired to repair some things. Mrs. Hudson is standing right below.

Unharmed.

I stop dead in my tracks, incredulous. My blood runs cold and my stomach drops. She begins rambling about, and I am incredibly confused. Then it hits me. I turn around and high-tail it outta there. I call a taxi and hurredly spew out the adress of St. Barts. I tap my leg on the carpeted floor as we drive. Just as I am getting out, my phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Collins."

"Hey, Sherlock, you okay?"

"Turn around and walk back the way you came."

"I'm coming in!"

"Just do as I ask! Please..."

Now I know there is something wrong. I can hear it in his voice, he is crying. He never cries. I stop and turn around and begin to retrace my steps.

"Stop there," Sherlock says.

"Sherlock...?"

"Okay look up, I'm on the rooftop."

Oh, God... There he is, flying high above the world, his coat sweeping out Behind him making him look like a hero in the sky.

"I-I... I can't come down so we'll just have to do it like this."

"What's going on?"

"An apology. It's all true. Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty."

"Why are you saying this?" I am panicking....

"I'm a fake. The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson, and Molly, in fact, tell anyone who will listen to you, that I created Moriarty for my own purposes.

"Okay, shut up Sherlock, shut up, the first time we met, the first time we met, you knew all about my sister, right?"

"Nobody could be that clever."

"You could."

Laughter.

"I researched you," he says. "Before we met I discovered everything I could to impress you. Its just a trick, its just a magic trick."

"No, alright stop it now!" I'm trying not to cry now, but my face is wet with tears. I begin to walk towards him.

"No! Stay where you are, stay exactly where you are! Don't move!" I put my hand up.

"Alright." He is reaching out to me now, and I can hear his sobs.

"Keep your eyes fixed on me!"

 _Always,_ I want to say, but my voice isn't working.

"Please will you do this for me?" He asks through his tears. "This phone call its, uh... Its my note. Thats what people do, don't they? Leave a note?"

"Leave a note when?"

"Goodbye, Collins," He says.

"No, don' t!"

His face is pained. " _I love you..."_ When he says that I burst into tears, not even caring if anyone sees. He has probably never said those words to anyone. Those are the words I have wanted to hear him to say for so long, and have never been able to say them myself. And now, at the end, when he is gone, is when it finally happens. 

"I love you, too, Sherlock."

I see him smile, and then toss his phone behind him on the roof. I scream his name, and as he falls, I can't move my legs. All my memories come rushing back: dancing in the kitchen after cracking a case, his violin lulling me to sleep at night, and then I realize, he was constantly saving me. He saved me from myself, he save me from Moriarty... And the times I've saved him. But now, when it matters the most that I save him, there is nothing I could do to help him now. He falls in slow motion, swinging his arms as he slowly reaches the ground. I squeeze my eyes shut just before impact.

I begin to run, and I get knocked over by a man on a bike. I can see a crowd gathering around him as I stand back up, not caring that I broke the heel of my boot. His view is blocked from me now. As I reached the mob, I began to plead, telling them about my career as a nurse, hoping that will get me some leeway. My heart is in crumbled pieces aong the pavement.

"He's my friend, let me through!" I scream, hysterically. I'm crying so hard, snot is running out of my nose, and I can barely talk if I dont scream. I try to push through, try to see him. I grab his hand and feel no pulse, I look at that pale, lifeless, beautiful face marred by blood, just before the paramedics pull me away. I am led to an emergency vehicle, and they drape a shock blanket over me. I curl up in the corner and cry whats left of my heart out, because I know that no shock blanket will help Sherlock. I watch them wheel him away on a gurney. Women crowd around me, giving me hugs and encouraging words. I can barely hear them. It begins to rain.

 

############################################################################################################################################################################

 

I sit in the flat, thirty minutes before Mrs. Hudson and I are meant to go to the cemetery. I am unable to say his name, it cuts my heart too deep. I simply stare off into space, wearing his scarf. Molly, the girl from the lab who had a crush on Sherlock, had it cleaned for me so I could always have a piece of him. In the three weeks since he died, it has rained every day. As we are in the taxi on the way to visit his grave, it stops. No rain. Mrs. Hudson begins talking about the things I need to remove from that flat the belonged to him. I haven't been back there since... 

When we get to the grave, Mrs. Hudson talks about how much he annoyed her, but I know she is trying not to fall apart. When she leaves, I sink to the earth and say all the things I should have said to him when he was alive. I cry, and water his grave with my salty tears. I think it is sad how the only thing on his tombstone is his name. I stand, lean over and kiss his grave, and walk away, knowing I couldn't ever return... Too much sadness lingers in the pasts of the ones we miss.

 

" _I love you, Sherlock..."_


End file.
